I do not own anything, all rights to Marvel, except for Zara and Samira.

Quick note: I changed the age that Samira was when her brothers went to Utkin Prison to 18; it works out better with the story :)

This is kinda a background chapter so you get to know a little more about Samira!

Enjoy! :D

"Zara! Zara!" I loudly exclaimed while pretty much tripping down the stairs. My best friend came into view, her red hair thrown up into her signature messy bun, making it look like she hadn't taken a shower in days.

"What?! What happened?"

"The guy I'm friends with, who went to America, contacted me. He thinks he may have found out where my brothers are," I told her while jogging around the house to collect a few items I would need.

"You mean your crazy brothers who got themselves arrested and then managed to bust themselves out and disappear? So you're going to what? Visit them?" Zara sarcastically replied. She knew my brothers well enough, having been my friend when we were younger and they were still around.

I pulled out a picture that I kept securely in my wallet. Anatoly, only eighteen, held me, a giggling three year old as one of my tiny fists clutched onto his ear. Thirteen year old Vladimir had a rare grin on his face as he stared at the camera. It was still a rather tough time back then, but some moments of joy were found.

"No. I am going to bring them back, and make sure my Mother's dying wish doesn't go to waste."

XXX

Four days later, when I arrived in America it was dark. The sun had set nearly six hours ago but I was too restless to even think about finding a hotel to sleep at. After going through customs with some difficulty (my English being very rusty and my accent thick) I made my way out of the rather quiet airport towards the nearest train station. The weather in America was quite different from Russia's, so along the way I had to shed a few layers. I had only taken one suitcase and a carry-along bag; just enough.

I bought my train tickets before pulling out the tiny piece of white paper I had in my pocket. I had scribbled down the place where the Ranskahov brothers residence was confirmed.

Hell's Kitchen, NY

My friend had warned me of the - well - criminal element in Hell's Kitchen. I guessed it lived up to the name. But ever since I got a paying job, I had been taking martial arts lessons with an older man. I was far from mastering the fighting techniques, but I was strong and in shape. I wouldn't be going down without one hell of a fight. I doubted that I'd be made a target by any actual threats; my hair was a dirty blonde and my eyes were a deep brown. Real threats tended to look for more, well, exotic combinations as I had seen with the gangs in Russia.

It took me four hours of endless pacing until the first train that I needed to board arrived. During that long wait, I thought of all the possible trouble they could have gotten themselves into. Scandals, drug deals, illegal trading. The list seemed endless. I nearly smashed my head against a pole when I thought about the trouble my idiot brothers could get in. They would face prison for life. I also knew they would have changed in almost eight years, I just didn't know how.

I was mostly worried about their lust for fame. What idiots. I was seething yet a part of me held a certain pride. We had all suffered the ruthlessness of being poor in Russia; all they had wanted was to live a rich life instead of being beggars and stealers, but in the process had gotten blood on their hands.

They were highly ranked criminals. I had done my research; the tattoos that covered their bodies weren't just for decoration. They were meant as symbols of their crimes and abilities. The last time I had seen them in the Utkin prison, I took note of their many tattoos. The stars on both of their shoulders signified that they are men of discipline, status and tradition. When promoted to "captain" in the world of crime, men also receive those stars. Also, the cross on their chests signify that they are a "Prince of Thieves;" the highest possible rank.

Not something I was proud of.

While in Russia they kept a lot from me. It was always Anatoly and Vladimir together. They would watch out for me and care for me, but I was the typical woman of the household. I would cook the little food we got, wash or sew their clothes, and fix up the gashes they and broken bones they would sometimes come home too. I despised it.

On various occasions I would go out to my favorite bar. It was full of drunk people and some drug dealers, but they liked me there (most likely because I was a woman, but hey free drinks, and if anyone tried to touch me they'd have a broken nose to nurse). I would sing songs during karaoke and get myself free drinks so I never needed to pay, and my handy fake I.D. helped (I was younger than eighteen).

This only happened when Vladimir and Anatoly went out for long periods of time (they would always tell me). The last time I had gone out to the bar before their major arrest, didn't end very well for me. At the time I was seventeen. I had just finished singing and was on my second beer. A young man named Artyom was talking to me about his recent hunting trip. Almost every time I was at the bar he was there too. Artyom was one of my favorite people to talk to, always quick with a story or joke, and he never got wasted like everyone else in the bar. After finishing my second beer, I looked to get another. The color had drained from my face as I saw Anatoly and Vladimir sitting in a booth in the darkest corner of the bar, talking intently to a rather - rugged - man.

Quickly I turned my back to them, hoping they wouldn't notice, and continued my talk with Artyom. My fingers had been twitching, a definite sign that I was nervous, but if I turned around to see if they were there, I would have risked them noticing me.

That was when Artyom told me that he had to go and discuss business with some fellows that had arrived. It was know that he was a high criminal figure (forgery and hacking), another reason I'd be dead if I were caught. When he was walking away though, he had turned suddenly back and asked me if I wanted to join him, telling me that Anatoly and Vlad weren't as scary as they seemed. Oh. Not good. That was when I turned ashen white and quickly told him I had to get going.

I ran home like the devil himself was chasing me, but when Anatoly and Vlad got back to our tiny apartment I got the verbal lashing of my life. Turns out Artyom had told them all about my visits to the bars, and was planning on asking me out. (What can I say, I guess I charmed criminals). Well two Russian brothers didn't take that well, and in fact, had told Artyom that if he ever even looked at me again, he would end up without any limbs. I got the brute of the lashing though; two Russian brothers were the equivalent to a pack of rabid wolves protecting a pup, especially when that pup was conversing with a coyote.

My days of going into bars were over. At least until I then hit eighteen; I would legally be allowed to and an official adult.

XXX

When I got off my last train, I made my way through the busy station, growling when some people bumped into me. Suddenly, someone grabbed my hand rather tightly. I spun around ready to whack them with my bag until I noticed who it was. I laughed when I saw Artyom standing behind me with a rather devilish grin. His inky black hair was rather short and his complexion looked tanner than usual from the American sun. His dark eyes sparkled with the same mischief as a little kid.

Did I mention we had been dating for the past four years? (He had some guts to go against my brothers, especially when he was the one who helped me find them, I'll say that).